Tim’s slender frame was painfully obvious to Rachel’s tired eyes when they landed on the unmarked car parked along the curb outside of her home. She’d successfully ignored the fifteen calls he had delivered to her phone, cleared the ten ensuing text messages, and deleted all the half silent, fully irritated voicemails.

This just wasn’t the night.

Target apprehended, Raylan shut down, all Rachel wanted was a hot bath, and a chilled bottle of wine. Besides, they were only friends. She’d had the conversation with him already about her heart not being capable of withstanding more. Personal and professional were to remain separate; she’d drawn clear lines, provided concise rules, and expected his full compliance.

Really she should have known that just like every other man in Harlan, Tim Gutterson was only committed to his own agenda.

He was out of the car by the time she parked. One of his hands reached for the seat belt that kept her confined to the vehicle, the other guided her from the driver’s seat. Before she could complain he’d managed to grow another set of limbs and he used them dutifully to retrieve the keys from her hand. The walk from the driveway to the top step was slow and quiet. They both averted their gazes, opting for stealing glimpses of moonlight and noting the flight patterns of the planes in the sky. She fidgeted while he fumbled with the lock of her door until she noticed that the sharp shooter’s hands shook. That sight alone smoothed the edge that had settled along the top layer of her skin and her ears heard it in her tone when she reached for his hand and extended what could be construed as an olive branch.

“Let me try,” Rachel whispered the request as she took the keys and opened the door in less than a second.

She paused in the doorway, contemplating her options before she stepped aside, clearing a small path, and allowing him entrance. The door closed and a shallow breath followed. The lady marshall knew in the morning the invisible wall she had erected between them would be missing a brick, maybe two.

Tim always knew what and what not to say. His fingers found the knots in her shoulders and he kneaded gently as she walked through the house.

Rachel surveyed her home, fluffing the pillows on the couch, checking the bottles of water in the fridge, all while her guest continued the attention he’d directed to her shoulders. She felt her body relax and her resistance level further decreased. Slowly her frame molded against his.

“I can…”

And before the apostrophe and the‘t’ could be added to those three little letters, lips found the curve of her neck, strong, familiar arms circled her waist, and Tim added the simple plea, “Don’t say that.”

Rachel stood there for what felt like hours but only amounted to a few minutes.

Not tonight, she wasn’t going to do this tonight. This is how everything began with Gutterson; a moment of weakness and self depreciation, his obvious discernment of what had happened between her and Raylan.

Rachel wasn’t sure if it had been the constant surveillance she kept on Raylan’s empty desk or the way she inquired about his whereabouts to Art, but Tim had cornered her in the elevator weeks before, halting the metal’s movement while he stared at her intently. He’d always made her nervous - war vet, with a keen eye, and a quick hand, hell he might shoot up the entire office on a whim.

However, that day there had been something in his perusal.

The precision with which his blue eyes studied the contours of her face and the softness that resonated in them when she finally allowed her hesitant gaze to meet his. She’d invited him to dinner at her mother’s and watched in utter shock as he charmed the original Ms. Badass Brooks and won over her hard to please nephew. There were a few rounds of Jack at the pool hall on the outskirts of town. She hadn’t cared about the dirty looks or vulgar whispers that tickled her ears when they made their way to the pool table. Rachel had indulged herself a moment of pleasure when the butterflies in her stomach took flight when Tim’s fingertips brushed hers when he passed the stick from his hand to her palm.

Tim’s power that night had been evident in everything he did not say. He had known that Rachel welcomed Raylan to her bed, but he had allowed her to reveal all her dirty little secrets when she was ready. He listened to the how and why; the explanation that led him to understanding her path of insanity. At the conclusion of her tale, he didn’t pass judgment; he held her and let the tears fall from her eyes. In the morning she had awakened alone, fully dressed, and strangely empowered. A new friendship formed between them. There were more evenings around her mother’s table and adventures with an eight ball and a pool cue.

Where everything with Raylan had been filled with a sense of urgency, the development with Tim was handled with care. They added lunch to dinner. His purely platonic overnight visits became more frequent. It was killing her softly, ignoring the attraction growing between them and avoiding moments of awkwardness.

Then Tim finally made what could be classified as a move.

Maybe it had been an accident but as she washed and dried the dishes from dinner and moved to return the porcelain back to their safe haven in the cabinets, she became aware of the close proximity of his body. The masculine scent of his sweat mingled with a hint of fear, and a flaccid, yet impressive bulge in the front of his pants. She was unsure if he heard the hitch in her breath when said obtrusion glanced over her backside. She was positive that he had picked up the deepened breathing and rapid heartbeat when she felt him touch her yet again.

The subsequent kiss had been long overdue.

At the time Rachel had felt like a puppet, yielding to the command of the strings Tim pulled. Her body turned to face his, the firmness of the counter pressed into her back, as his hand lifted her chin higher, until their lips met. Her eyes had remained open, watching the flutter of his lashes and tilt of his head. Breathless and frightened she succumbed to the energy in the fingertips that traced lines along the length of her neck. She’d melted with each new touch; thrown caution to the wind and abandoned all the reason and logic she possessed.

In the morning Rachel had felt that strange trickle of regret as it ebbed and flowed from the center of her chest. She’d done it again, created an unbearable situation in both her professional and personal life. Then it washed over here, the eerie warmth of calm when Tim threw an arm over her waist and led her body closer to his and urged her back to the peace of sleep.

Rachel longed for that simplicity now.

The serenity found in Tim’s embrace.

“Tim.”

His body went rigid with the whisper of his name.

“Rachel…”

She extricated herself from his arms and widened the distance between them. She knew what he would say. He understood. She needed time. Things would be different. It was bullshit. She hated that everything changed when Raylan Givens crossed the state line.

Rachel waited for Tim to move closer. She took a deep breath and anticipated the care and concern he would bestow to erase the emotional and physical gap between them. The time never came. The door closed with a loud thud behind him and new regrets spurred fresh tears that she refused to let fall from her eyes.